


Next time

by Momoch93



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: I really don't even know how to tag this properly, Reminiscing, Smoking, guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 07:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8153135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momoch93/pseuds/Momoch93
Summary: Smoking is an easy way to get an early death, so what does McCree do when the Reaper comes for him? Share of course.





	

Inhaling deeply, McCree closed his eyes, taking in the smoke from his cigar and blew it out contently. “What have I said about smoking?” A smirk lifted his lips as he opened his eyes, spotting the dark clad figure standing before him. He took another puff of his cigar then flicked the ash.  
“Do as you say, not as you do.” McCree recited, watching the dark smoke swirl around the masked man, his own wisp of a body looking as though it could change at any moment. “But it looks like you never stopped either.” A deep chuckle came from the Reaper, shoulder’s shaking with the laugh.  
“Looks like you never lost that humor.” Reaper told him, smoke puffing out of his mask.  
“Nice to see you still have one.”

McCree took another pull of the cigar, leaning back on the wall and stared at Reaper, face impassive. “So...you come to kill me finally?” He asked, ready at a moment's notice to draw his Peacekeeper. The Reaper shook his head and swiped the cigar from McCree suddenly.  
“Not today, vaquero.” He replied, lifting a bit of his mask to show his mouth and took a draw of the cigar. “I have someone else I need to visit. But next time...don’t get too comfy.” Finishing off the item, he tossed it to the floor and replaced his mask. McCree nodded and silently tipped his hat to the man.  
“Then I guess we both best be off.” McCree said, straightening himself out. Wordlessly the Reaper nodded his goodbye to the cowboy and disappeared into his own vortex of smoke and fog.

“...You always say next time…” But when would ‘next time’ be the last time.


End file.
